Insides Crying Save Me Now
by ceafiction
Summary: Sam Winchester has a hard life. It's hard when the world rests on your shoulders and when no one can see how much it hurts. It's easy when something can take that pain away even when it comes at a cost. Only Cas can see, but will Sam be able to hide his secret for long or will he suffer in silence forever? WARNING: self harm triggers
1. The First Time

**Insides Crying Save Me Now**

 **Sam Winchester self harm**

 **WARNING: Self harm triggers**

 **I was inspired by Jared Padalecki's self harm and depression awareness campaign. So, anyone out there reading this, please, Always Keep Fighting!**

 **Title and quotes in italics from "Iridescent" by Linkin Park**

The First Time

 _And with the cataclysm raining down, insides crying save me now. You were there impossibly alone..._

"And if by some miracle we pull this off, I want you to lose my number, you understand me?"

Everything came crashing down.

The little family he had was gone now, forever. Cas was God knows where, Dean was treating him like an injured puppy that had done something wrong, and now Bobby. The world was falling apart around him literally, and it was all his fault.

Bobby stared intently into his eyes; Dean stood behind him, his eyes falling to the floor in disappointment. Sam nodded his head. His throat began to close, his eyes began to water. He swallowed hard, trying to fight back tears, before he spoke very quietly.

"There's an old church near by. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there."

"Yeah, you do that," said Bobby.

Sam stared at Bobby, then moved his gaze to Dean, looking for some reassurance, but he keep his eyes on the floor so Sam slowly turned around to make his way to the front door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. He pulled it on as he walked to one of Bobby's few running cars. He opened the door with a creak and turned the key that was already in the ignition. The car started put the car in gear and drove it through the large gate, and as he drove, tears streamed hot down his face.

But he didn't wipe them away. He let them fall, let them leave trails on his cheeks, let them wash away all that he had done. All he was about to do.

Sam pulled up in front of the church. The front was worn. The white siding was faded and peeling in places, and the small set of stairs leading to the wide doors was crooked. The grass was dotted with many wildflowers, and the hanging sign that was staked in the ground hung at an angle. Besides its appearance, the church itself was inviting. It was a little larger than most old churches.

Sam turned the car off and hopped out, slowly making his way up the unstable stairs. He gently pushed the wooden door open and poked his head in. The inside was in a lot better state than the outside. The pews were clean and the floor was spotless. A large stained glass window on the back wall casted colored shards of light across the room. A man in blue jeans and a plaid shirt stood in front of a carved statue of Jesus. He held a pile of papers, and his brows furrowed as he mumbled something to himself. He paced back and forth, not noticing a head of poking through the front door.

The man looked up when Sam opened the door all the way with a creak. "Hello, sir," said the man joyfully. His voice was smooth and deep, full of happiness, full of understanding.

Sam smiled. "Hi, I'm Sam Winchester. Are you Father Jacob?"

The man placed the papers he carried on the front pew. "Yes, I am. How may I help you today, Sam?"

"My uncle told me that this was a good place to read up. You see, I'm doing a project for my Religious Studies class. I'm a student at UND."

Father Jacob nodded and smiled. "Ah, yes, we do have a fairly large library." He pointed to a set of doors just off to the side of the alter. "Go right through those door right there. If you need any help finding anything, just let me know."

Sam bowed his head, "Thanks." He began to walk past Father Jacob when he turned around. "Father, do you have a restroom I could use?"

"Yep, there's a door in the library that leads to it."

"Thank you." Sam walked down the aisle and opened the door to the library. It was much larger than Sam imagined. Shelf after shelf was crammed full of books as thick as his calf. The room smelled of old leather and paper. It felt like home in here, but Sam didn't care. He eyed the bathroom door. He checked behind himself before closing the library door quietly and walking over to the bathroom. Pulling it open, he found that it was a single toilet with a small sink.

He stepped inside, pulled the door closed, and locked it. He stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were a little red, and dark circles formed under them. His face looked gaunt, his cheekbones seemed more defined in the dim halogen light. He sighed loudly while he pulled off his jacket and placed it gently onto the sink. He took a small folded note out of his pant's pocket and put it on his jacket. "Dean" was scribbled on the paper in dark ink.

Sam rolled up both of his shirt sleeves. He examined his forearms. They were muscular, tan, veins popping out from under the skin, all that power wasted, thrown away, twisted, manipulated, corrupted.

He pulled out a small knife out of his pocket and opened it. He stared at the glistening metal and the sharp blade. He took the knife in one hand and drug it down the forearm of the other, digging deep into his flesh, leaving a dark trail of blood that poured down his arm. At first he flinched at the pain, but as he continued to pull the knife down his arm, the less it hurt and the more numb he became. When he reached the inside of his elbow, he pulled the knife away and took it in the other hand. He again pulled the blade across his skin, pushing it further in until a gush of warm blood flowed down, pooling on the floor.

When he finished, he tossed the knife into the sink and sat down on the floor. He began to feel lightheaded, dizzy, and he knew he had done right. Now all was left was to wait for the darkness to come.

There was a gentle knock at the door followed by a deep, raspy voice, "Sam?"

It wasn't Father Jacob. It was Cas.

Dammit, though Sam.

"Sam, are you alright?" asked Cas through the door.

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, Cas, I'm fine." But he knew he didn't sound fine. His voice shook; it was hoarse and quiet.

Cas knocked again. "Sam, may I come in?"

"No," said Sam dizzily. "Don't."

Once more, a knock came, but louder this time. "Sam. Let me in. What's wrong?"

Sam leaned his head back on the wall. "Nothing. Please just go away."

There came a loud pop, and the door opened. Standing in the doorway was Cas who lowered his hand. He looked down at Sam leaning against the wall on the floor. He took in the bloody knife in the sink, the redness smeared on the floor, the streams that flowed from Sam's arms. "Sam!"

Cas rushed forward, grabbing the hand towel that hung beside the sink. He tore it in half and knelt in front of Sam. Sam could barely see Cas. His sight was fuzzy, the world began to spin, bells rung in his ears in time to his slowing heartbeat. Cas wrapped the towels around Sam's forearms in attempt to stop the bleeding.

However, the towels were soon red themselves, soaked in blood. Cas looked around the room for something, anything to stop the bleeding, but nothing was here. He turned back to Sam. Sam's eyes grew heavy, tears streaming down his face. Cas shook Sam's shoulders. "Sam, you can't go to sleep."

Cas looked back down at Sam's mutilated arms. He raised his hand, and a burst of bright light filled the room. "Cas, no," mumbled Sam before he gasped for air. When the light dimmed, Sam saw the cuts were gone, no scars, no blood. Cas fell backwards onto his butt. He took his head in his hands and bowed his head between his knees. Sam tried to stand but fell too, realizing that Cas only stopped the bleeding and mended the wounds; he didn't fix the massive blood loss.

Cas lifted his head and stared at Sam with pity.

It made Sam sick to see the look on Cas's face. He looked at Sam like he was a child that had scraped his knee in a bike accident, not the broken... monster that had tried to end it all, make right with the world, for it was better off without him in it.

"Oh, Sam," whispered Cas.

Sam folded into himself, pulling his long legs into his chest, wrapping his arms around them, bowing his head between his legs, his hair falling into his face. He let the tears come. He sobbed into his legs, tightening his grip on his knees, trying to pull himself in, trying to collapse into himself like a dying star turning into a blackhole.

Scooting himself closer, Cas said, "Why? Why would you do that to yourself, Sam?" He placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulders, rubbing it along the curve of his back. Cas knew why, he knew all too well. On multiple occasions, he had seen many people take their own lives whether it was by knife or gun or a long way down. He had seen them hurt themselves for reasons known and unknown: by razor, nails, fists, or just not eating at all. He had seen it all, so he knew exactly how Sam felt.

Cas pulled himself besides Sam and leaned back against the wall, his hand still resting on Sam's shoulder. He sighed quietly before he spoke. "Sam, tell me what's the matter."

From between his knees, Sam mumbled, "No."

"Please. I just want to help."

"You wouldn't understand, Cas."

Cas shook his head. "Sam, I've been around a long time. I've seen a lot. I've seen a lot of people do what you did. Here, look at this." Cas leaned forward and slid off his trench coat. Sam looked up as Cas rolled the sleeve up on his left arm, revealing dozens of faded scars up and down his forearm. He turned his arm over to expose cuts on his wrist and the inside of his elbow. "Jimmy was unhappy for a while. High school wasn't good to him. Many people bullied him, threw things at him, called him a freak, all because he was a Godly man. He kept himself clean, didn't go after all the girls like the other boys did, and he was punished for it. He cut himself using the blade from a pencil sharpener. He nearly died once."

"How do you know that?" asked Sam hoarsely.

"I watched Jimmy for most of his life. He is my vessel after all. I was assigned to watch over him, protect him, make sure everything went according to plan. I watched him hurt himself many times." Cas looked into Sam's dim eyes. "So I think I'll understand your pain."

Sam turned away from him and stared at the blood that was smeared on the tile floor. "I'm tired, Cas. I'm so tired. Tired of doing the wrong thing. I screwed up," cried Sam. "I let Lucifer out."

Cas's eyes fell to the blood too. "I know. Dean told me."

Sam's lips quivered, and he began to sob, words coming through cries. "I-I- deserve to- die. Look what- I did. Cas, Dean... he- and Bobby... Cas. I just, just want it to end!"

Wrapping his arms around his shoulders, Cas pulled Sam close. Sam leaned into him as he gripped tightly to his white dress shirt. Cas began to rock the both of them back and forth as he hummed quietly. He rubbed Sam's back and tangled his fingers in Sam's hair. "It's okay, Sam."

"No, it's not... just... make it stop."

"It was not your fault. None of it was your fault."

"Yes, it was."

" _No_ , it wasn't." Cas continued to hold Sam tightly, letting him cry into his chest. Sam slowly began to become quiet, the sobs getting further and further apart. He shook less, and his grip on Cas's shirt loosened.

With shame in his voice, Sam asked, "Do you think they'll forgive me?"

"Who?"

Sam tittered. "Everyone."

"I don't know about everyone, but I know Dean and Bobby will. Just give them time."

"What about you?"

"Of course I do."

They sat for a few minutes in silence then Sam sat up slowly. "How did you know I was here?"

"I went to Bobby's, and they told me you were here. I was going to help you do some research."

Sam smiled grimly. "Thanks, Cas."

Cas smiled back. "You're welcome."

Sam looked back at the blood on the floor. "I'm ready to go now."

"Ok." Cas stood up slowly with his hand resting on the wall. "Can you stand?" He reached his hand out to Sam.

"I think so." Sam tried to unfold himself and stand, but his legs shook violently when he began to put weight on them. He took Cas's hand, and Cas used his other hand to hold Sam up. He put his arm under Sam's, and they began to slowly shuffle out of the bathroom.

"Don't think we should use the front door," said Cas.

"Yeah, probably not the best idea... Um, Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Can we," Sam swallowed. "Can you not tell Dean or Bobby about this?"

"Of course." Cas smiled and Sam returned it.

"Cas?"

"Hmm?"

"Really, thank you. For everything."

"It's what family does."

 _Remember all the sadness and frustration and let it go, let it go._


	2. The Second Time

**The Second Time**

 _You build up hope, but failure's all you've known. Remember all the sadness and frustration and let it go_

"'Wake up, little Susie, wake up. Wake up, little Susie, wake up!'" The guitars echoed on the white walls. No matter how hard Sam pushed the pillow against his ears, he couldn't block out the singing and the quiet chuckling.

Lucifer sat in a chair leaned up against the wall. His eyes were closed, but he mouthed the lyrics while he wagged his fingers to the beat. He opened his eyes when he heard the bed next to him creak and noticed that Sam was lying in fetal position with his back facing him. A pillow was pushed tightly against the side of his head that wasn't against the mattress.

"Come on, Sam," said Lucifer with a laugh. "Sing with me. I know you like this song!"

Sam curled tighter into himself when Lucifer began to sing too. "'The movie's over, it's four O'clock and we're in trouble deep!' Sam! Don't leave me hangin'."He turned up the volume on the radio and bobbed his head to the music. "Sammy." Sam pulled closer to the edge of the bed with teeth clenched so tight he thought he would chip one. He gripped onto his forearm and pushed his nails into the skin. _Anything, anything to make it stop_ , he thought.

"Nothing will make it stop," shouted Lucifer over the blasting music. "Now sing with me, Sam!" He giggled as he began to sing again. "'Well, what are we going to tell your mama? What are going to tell your pa? What are we going to tell our friends? When they say Ooh la la?!'"

Sam scratched harder and harder into his arm. A drop of blood dripped down and fell onto the sheets, staining it crimson. He focused all of his attention on the stain, letting the red fill him, letting the color fill his vision, his thoughts. All of a sudden, the music stopped. All was quiet. No guitars, no firecrackers, no laughing, nothing. _Too quiet_. Sam turned over onto his back. His heart filled with joy at the thought of an empty chair, but his heart fell into his stomach when he saw Lucifer sitting in the chair with arms crossed and a devilish grin on his lips.

"I'm proud of you, ya know," Lucifer sneered. "You finally get it."

"Get what?" asked Sam hoarsely.

"This is how I win." He giggled happily as he stood and paced at the foot of the bed, his hands dancing to a beat that no longer played.

A puzzled look fell over Sam's face, and his brows knitted together as he sat up on his elbows. "Win what?"

Lucifer flashed his teeth. "Everything, Sammy. I. Win… Win, ha! Your madness won. Just look at you." He waved his hand at Sam. "You fell apart; it was almost too easy. You may have stopped my big plan, but hell, at least I get a good show in the end of it all." He hummed as he walked, running his finger across the blanket.

Sam fell onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He clutched on his arm, nails digging deeper, making blood ooze out. He didn't flinch at the pain. It almost felt good because it felt _so_ real. "Shut up," he demanded.

Lucifer's face twisted into sarcastic disgust. "Sam, you hurt my feelings." He laughed again. "But that's not all. You've finally realized what the end game is. Those little scratches, you know they can become something so much more. I know what you did before. You can do it again. All you have to do is try."

"I said shut up!" shouted Sam.

"You got a 50/50 shot. You either die and we have a nice little family reunion down in the cage… or you die and this is all over. You want to roll that die?"

Sam rolled over onto his side, nails still dug deep into his flesh. "Please, just shut up," he sobbed.

"Oh, Sam," said Lucifer. He went over the side of the bed and knelt before it. He stared intently into Sam's red, watery eyes. "I know all that built up crap you have in that thick skull of yours. I'm a part of it afterall. The guilt, the self hatred, the secrets, everything has just been building up." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small knife that shone brightly in the dull fluorescent light. Placing it gently on the small nightstand, he gave a small smirk. "Why don't you blow off a little steam."

Sam stared at the knife strategically placed on the table. He remembered the cold metal against his skin, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the dizziness and blotchy colors floating in his vision, the red stream that cut its way down his arm and waterfalled to the floor, the way Cas pulled on his arms. It felt so real and he wanted to feel that way again. He wanted what he saw and felt to be real. He picked up the knife and felt the weight in his hands.

He lashed at Lucifer but the knife never struck anything solid. The space in front of him was empty, and before he could comprehend what had happened, a quiet laugh rang out from behind him. He turned to see Lucifer standing on the other side of the bed with a wide smile spread across his lips. "Nice try, Sam. Might want to try that on yourself next time."

He looked back down at the knife, turning it in his hands so the blade caught the light. He wanted it more than anything. He hadn't cut since that time with Cas, but now his arms ached for the sting. He didn't want to die like last time. He just wanted that real, human pain.

He knew he couldn't cut on his arms; it would be noticeable to all of the nurses. The scratches would be easy to conceal, so he lifted his shirt and stared at his stomach. He took the knife and drug it across his skin. He knew he couldn't cut too deep with risk of really doing serious damage to major muscles in his stomach. He lightly pressed into the skin and let the blade create beautiful marks like red tattoos. He moved the blade horizontally and vertically, creating criss-cross patterns on his abs and he made thin lines on his hip bones. It didn't hurt really, it just ached and stung at the same time. Minimal blood poured out this time, just enough to highlight the marks on his pale skin.

But it fell so good. He couldn't stop. He continued to cut, running the knife across places that were already red, making them more and more sensitive at every pass. Lucifer laughed, but Sam couldn't hear. All he could hear was the sound of the blood pumping past his eardrums. The beating of his heart, a sound that sounded too much like footsteps.

He paused for a moment. Even Lucifer quieted his laughter and turned his attention to the door. As clear as day, Sam could hear the sounds of footsteps coming closer to his room. He pulled his shirt down and threw the blood knife under the bed. He turned over and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders in hopes that whoever would enter wouldn't see the blood seeping through his thin shirt.

The door creaked open but Sam kept his eyes closed, hoping, praying they believed he was asleep. The door closed quietly and the footsteps faded away down the hall. "That was close, eh, Sam?" mocked Lucifer.

Sam threw the blanket off and sat up. He tugged at his collar and lifted his shirt up to examine his stomach. The marks were more irritated now, the lines raising up from his skin like small ridges. He ran his thumb over his skin, feeling how the flesh was now raised; he traced the lines gently. He sighed as he laid back down and pulled his knees to his chest.

He realized that the harm wasn't making it better, only worse. Lucifer wasn't quieted by the knife; it only seemed to make him happier to see Sam bleed. Sam wrapped his arms around his legs and pushed his face into his knees. He let a single tear fall from his eye, no more for Lucifer he proclaimed. He wasn't going to give up that easily.

Lucifer saw that Sam was done entertaining him, so he sat back down in his chair and turned the radio on. This time the music was quieter, and instead of belting the lyrics at the top of his lungs, he hummed the tune while he conducted an invisible band.

The Everly Brothers sang to their hearts' contents as Sam slowly drifted into the unpleasant place that was neither sleep nor conscience. "Well I told your mama that you'd be in by ten. Well Susie baby looks like we goofed again. Wake up, little Susie, Wake up…"


	3. The Third Time

**The Third Time**

 _You felt the gravity of tempered grace falling into empty space, no one there to catch you in their arms_

Tears ran down his cheeks, burning hot, the saltiness seeping through his lips. He could barely see through the tears. He swerved back and forth across the lane as his hands shook. The music was quiet, _too quiet_ , as rain drops splashed against the windshield and the wipers hummed as they were drug across the glass. He focus too hard on the oncoming headlights to know he was over the yellow light until _almost_ too late when he jerked the wheel back. The air smelled of copper and sweat, no matter how much AC he pumped through the vents.

As he drove, Sam felt something heavy fall against his arm. He looked over to see Dean, bloody, beaten, and… dead. When he saw his brother's broken face that seemed so peaceful, he thought he was just sleeping, snoozing until the next stop. Sure, a little scuffed up, but he'll be better when he wakes up.

 _But there's no waking up from this_ , thought Sam. Not after what Metatron had done to him. There was no coming back from that. The tears came again, creating new streams of sorrow down his face. He tried to push Dean off of him with his arm, but he was too heavy so he left him there.

He pretended he was sleeping and the hum of the wipers was snoring…

Sam gently laid Dean's corpse on the bed. He had spend a hour just washing him, taking a wet sponge and wiping off all the blood he could. He left his clothes on and he didn't even look under the bloody shirt that stuck to Dean's chest. He took a step back and watched as Dean _slept_. He looked peaceful, more than he had in a long time.

Sam tried to make everything good. _Dean was in a better place hopefully, he could finally rest, maybe the mark isn't affecting him anymore…_ But then his mind wandered back to the place he so desperately wished he could carve out. _But… I'm here alone._

With more tears brimming in his eyes, he ran out of the room and ran into his own room, slamming the door closed. He threw himself onto the ground, dragging a table down too. He pushed what he could reach off of his nightstand and threw books at the walls. He yelled at the empty space, a loud, angry yell that echoed back. He grabbed the whiskey bottle that fell on the floor and twisted off the cap and pushed the bottle to lips. From the corner of his eyes, he saw some pain pills sitting on the desk. He reached forward and snatched them. He opened the bottle and poured half its contents into his palm. Tossing them into his mouth, Sam let a small whimper escape his lips. He downed the remainder of the whiskey and threw the bottles down.

He curled into himself, pulling his legs to his chest, and he rocked back and forth. "Dean," he cried.

Then he felt something hard in his pocket. He reached inside with tears blinding him, and pulled out a shiny pocket knife, one that Dean had gotten him a couple years ago for Christmas. He opened it and stared at the blade.

 _Here we go again,_ he thought.

Memories flooded his mind, what he did before. Like the first time, he wanted to die, but it was more than that. He wanted to be numb, quiet, done. He wanted to be with his brother.

He pulled up his sleeves and dug the blade into his skin, pulling the blade down towards his elbow. He traded hands and did the same to the other arm. The blood pooled out of the wounds. He felt dizier much quicker than he had ever before. Lights danced in his vision, the dark room spun, and it pulsated to his heart.

It felt so good, the burn, the sting; it felt scared, human, right. He chuckled as he cut again.

When he had his fill, he threw the knife across the room. He laid down on his back, putting his arms, palm up, on the floor. The blood continued to pour out. The warmth pooled around his hips and seeped into his jeans, but he didn't care. The world was getting darker and darker, the lights dimming as his chest became heavier and his head lighter.

"Goodnight, Dean."

He closed his eyes…

And he slept.

From in the darkness, he heard a constant beeping, quiet at first but it grew louder as he recognized the rhythm it played. A dull light formed in the center of his vision, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the tiled ceiling of a hospital room.

 _Dammit._

The door opened and a moment of panic rushed over Sam. He turned his head, but he stopped midway when the world spun faster than he could ever imagine. He lifted his arm to hold his head but found an IV sticking out of his arm. His forearms were wrapped tightly in white gauze. He looked at the bed and realized the rails were padded. There were no sharp objects in sight.

He focused on the figure in the door. A man in a dirty trenchcoat smile grimly at him. His blue eyes sparkled with hurt. He moved into the room and sat gracefully in the chair beside the bed.

"Hello, Sam," said Cas.

"Hey, Cas… Where am I?"

"A hospital. You hurt yourself again…"

"I know. I'm so sorry, Cas." A tear ran down Sam's face.

"Do not apologize, Sam."

An awkward silence fell over them for a few minutes as Sam stared into the blanket and Cas watched the liquid drip in the IV. "How did I get here?"

"I went to the bunker, looking for you and Dean, and I found you in your room on the floor. I couldn't heal you myself so I called 9-1-1."

Sam cleared his throat. "Why were you looking for Dean?"

"I- I don't know." He paused for a long time. "I know what happened, Sam."

Sam looked down again, fiddling with his fingers and the clip they put on his finger. "Yeah."

"Sam, it wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault."

"I could have gotten to him in time."

Cas shook his head. "No, you couldn't."

Sam looked Cas straight in the eyes, a stoic expression upon his face. "Why didn't you leave me on the floor?"

Cas stared back in shock to be asked such a question. "You don't deserve to die."

Sam laughed coldly. "Out of everyone on this damn planet, I do. Not Dean. Me."

"Sam-"

"Don't, Cas. I'm done. Done with all of this. Done with this life, this weight on my shoulders. I'm tired of it."

Tears began to form in Cas's eyes. "That's what Dean said, but you said he didn't deserve to die. Neither do you."

"I don't want to do this," he waved his arms. "without my brother." His voice cracked as he nearly broke.

Cas looked down at his own hands folded in his lap. "I know, I don't want to do it without him either." He looked up and Sam who was staring at the wall, trying to keep from falling apart. "I don't want to do it without you, too."

Sam began to sob. He opened his mouth like he was screaming but no sound come. Muscles in his neck tensed and his whole body shook. He covered his face and turned his back to Cas even though the IV stung sharply when he nearly pulled it out.

Jumping up, Cas ran to the other side of the bed and knelt in front of Sam. He gently placed a hand on his shoulders and rubbed them, trying to get him to come out of his ball.

"Stop…" cried Sam. "Stop… Cas, please… I want my brother. De-" He cried so loud, Cas was afraid the nurses would hear. He took his hand away but didn't leave Sam's side.

"I don't want to lose you, too, Sam. I don't want to lose another brother."

Cas stayed with Sam. He sat on the floor next to the bed. After Sam stopped crying, he fell into a deep sleep, snoring quietly, peacefully. Cas sat on the cold tile watching him from below. He wanted to be right there if he woke up in a fright or went into another breakdown.

A nurse came in once to check on them, and when she saw Cas sitting on the floor, she asked quietly, "Sir?" But Cas merely shoed her away. He stayed that way for hours…

Sam stayed in the hospital a few more days before he was able to get out of bed on his own. When the doctor noticed Sam was physically okay, he began asking questions about why Sam had taken all those pills and why he felt he needed to cut. Sam ignored him, staring blankly at the wall or at Cas. Cas would watch back in forth between the two.

When he noticed Sam was getting tired of the questions, Cas spoke up.

"Sir, could you leave him alone?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that. He needs to go to the Psych Floor. He isn't stable."

Cas stood up. "No, he has the right to refuse. I have the right to refuse his treatment."

The doctor stared coldly at Cas. "Who do you think you are?"

"I'm his brother, and I say, 'No!'"

"Cas, I want to go home," interrupted Sam.

"He's not well!" shouted the doctor.

"Sam, do you feel well?"

"Well enough to get the hell out of here."

Cas stepped over to the bed. "We're leaving."

"I can't stop you from leaving," said the doctor. "But please, he needs help."

Cas smiled as he helped Sam stand. "I'll help him."

The doctor stormed out of the room. Cas walked Sam over to the bathroom and closed the door behind Sam. He stood at the door until Sam opened it, dressed and ready to go. Cas grabbed the bag he had packed for Sam and together they walked down the hall.

Cas kept a hand on his brother's back, steadying him as they went home.

 **Hi, guys! I'm sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter. I just finished it with a college preview day tomorrow and I also have so much homework I'm putting off. It's just been so busy lately. Bare with me, I will upload. It just takes time. Thank ya'll for all the positive feedback. Let me know what you think. Leave me a comment! Bye! Until next time...**


	4. The Time Dean Gave In

**The Time Dean Gave In**

 **FYI in case it's hard to understand but this scene is from the scene with Dean and the bottle in 10X19 "The Werther Project." For this chapter the italic lyrics are from "Suicide Note" by Johnette Napolitano. I thought it would fit this whole scene better. Some of the dialogue isn't mine... so don't sue me. Some of it is taken right from the show. Rights to the CW for some of the dialogue (Most if not almost all the Benny/Dean dialogue). Enjoy and thank y'all for all the positive feedback! Sorry for taking so long. Lots of senior stuff has been happening lately. Let me know what you think! Leave me a comment.**

 _I wanted to believe you would win the war in your head that I did not understand..._

Something moved quickly behind him. He couldn't see what it was, just a blur in the side of his vision but it was quick. He turned and stared at the empty doorframe. Sam ran out of the room towards the door with the screams of a woman echoing behind it.

Dean walked towards the door when he saw another blur escape his sight off to his left. He spun on his heel, but he didn't see the living room he was standing in. The world went gray and faded, color was sucked right out of it. The familiar dampness filled his nose. Countless trees wider than his arm stood tall before him. Dean knew exactly where he was. That all too familiar adrenaline rush pumped through his veins as he walked, staring into every tree and bush.

"Sam," yelled Dean. But he knew Sam wasn't there. But then again, how could he be _here_?

Leaves crunched under his boots. The cool air made his skin rise and that dampness... how he missed it. He pulled the fresh air through his nose deeply as he trudged along looking for nothing at all.

But then reality snapped back into his mind. "Sam!" shouted Dean. He began to walk faster through the forest, his eyes scanning over everything.

Something black pushed him against a tree. Dean lashed out and knocked it away. He rolled across the ground and tried to jump over a large fallen tree before the monster grabbed his jacket and pulled him back. The thing turned him around and forced Dean's back into the tree. Its face split into a large, gaping mouth full of razor sharp teeth and two long tongues.

 _Leviathan. Oh shit_ , thought Dean. He shut his eyes, not even willing to fight anymore. All of a sudden, a rough blade tore its way through the leviathan's neck. Its head and body fell to the ground with a thud. Where the monster stood was a familiar face.

"Hey, chief." Benny smiled at him.

"No, it can't be you. You're not real."

"Well, that's no way to say 'Hi.'"

"You're not real." Dean tore past Benny, rushing into the forest silently. Benny quickly followed.

"Come on, Dean, how long you gonna keep this up? Silent treatment for me? We got so much to catch up on."

Dean turned his head to look back. "Hey, it's good to see you. It is, okay, but like I said, you ain't Benny."

"I'm not?" asked Benny. "Shoot."

"Yeah, I'm bummed out too, but you're just a figment okay? You're some conscience junk that my brain is throwing up to distract me from getting back to reality."

"Figment? Junk? Well, I'll try not to be offended," joked Benny.

They walked some more. The trees began to all look the same, but Dean kept going. He had to get back to Sam.

"Why not trust me?" asked Benny. "Gotten you out of here before. Besides, if all I am is your subconscious junk, then how could I lead you wrong?"

Dean stopped. The trees blended together. He had been here before.

Benny laughed behind him. "Well, how 'bout that? A perfect circle." Dean turned around. "Don't look at me, chief. You chose the way."

Dean stepped forward. "Benny, whoever you are, I need to get out of here."

"It's all figment, right?" Benny walked over to the fallen tree and leaned back. "You, me, left, right. But no matter which way you turn, you keep endin' up here. You got to wonder, why this figment? Why this place?"

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing you don't already know." Benny smiled. "This is where you want to be. Your happy place, and you don't really want to leave."

Dean turned slowly around as Benny spoke. "In this place, you don't have to go lookin' for a fight. All you have to do is be still for one moment, and that fight will come to you. That's why you're here, Dean. That's pure you crave. Killing without consequence."

Dean shook his head "no" as he turned back around. "No, Benny, I don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired of fighting." He pushed past Benny.

"The Mark ain't." Dean stopped. "So, you don't want to leave, don't want to stay, bit of a bind, ain't it? Good thing there's alway a third way out." Benny lifted up his blade and twirled it in his hand. Dean turned. "You can't say you haven't been thinking about it."

"That ain't gonna happen. Ever."

"Come on, Dean. I know you can see it. The purity, the honor-"

"There's no honor in that."

"You just gonna wait for the Mark to reclaim you? Go out swingin'? Die topside? Then what? Maybe kill a few humans? Kill Cas?! Kill your brother?! Yeah, that's mighty honorable!"

"Shut up!" shouted Dean.

 _Every night, you wrote another line..._

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot 'bout your plan. You gonna get Sam and Cas to pull you down. You really think they're gonna keep that agreement? Come on. Dean, let's say they do. Do you think they will ever recover from that? It will ruin them. This little back up plan of yours, I know you've been thinking about it for a time. I know it's been gnawing at you." Benny paused for a moment. Dean breathed heavily through his nose. "You can't leave that job to them."

Nodding, Dean cleared his throat. "You're right."

"Out there, you're sleeping. You make the right choice in here, you'll sleep forever."

Dean looked up into the trees and what little gray sky he could see.

Benny spoke, "You won't ever hurt anyone ever again." Benny looked down at his feet and then raised his eyes to look at Dean looking up at the sky. "No one needs to know, Dean. What happens in Purgatory, stays in Purgatory." Benny held out his blade with a small smile written on his face.

Dean slowly raised his hand and took the blade. It didn't feel warm like he expected. It was ice cold, like glass. He turned around and walked slowly away, again looking into the trees and taking a deep breath. "I always did love it here. Seems good a place as any to call it a day, huh?" Benny nodded with a smile. Dean twisted the blade in his hands, looking over every bump and mark along its length. "I think it's time to call it a day."

"You're choice, chief."

Dean smiled. "I'm tired, Benny. You have no idea how tired I am."

"I know. I'm your subconscious junk afterall." He chuckled quietly.

Walking forward, Dean held out the blade to Benny. "I'm ready to sleep." Benny took the blade and twirled it in his hand.

"See ya, chief."

 _With a bloody, broken bottle…_

Benny thrust the blade into Dean's stomach. Dean didn't feel anything. The world became alive again. The warm colors returned and he was standing in the living room. A broken bottle was in his hands. He tested its weight and laughed. He was ready to sleep. He pulled his sleeve up, exposing his forearm and dug the bottle into his arm, running the broken shards up and down his arm. Blood oozed out and ran down his hand. He fell back against a chair and tumbled to the floor. He laughed.

 _Why don't you pull the pin on that grenade, you coddle…_

"Dean!" Sam's voice rang in his ringing ears. Sam rushed beside him, panic on his face. "What did you do?!"

"I'm tired, Sammy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I- I didn't want to hurt anyone else. Sammy-" His voice broke.

"Dean, no, no, no, no," mumbled Sam. "No, this can't be happening."

Rowena appeared in the doorway. "'Ello, Dean." She waved her hand like the Queen, and she smiled widely.

Dean didn't even acknowledge her, he just stared at his brother. He made it back to him and now he was finally going to get some sleep.

Sam shook Dean's shoulders violently. "Dean!" Dean's eyelids were heavy and beginning to droop. "Dean, you got to stay awake, buddy. You got to stay awake."

Rowena giggled at the sight of a grown man nearly in tears. "Samuel, you're making me a wee bit emotional. Tis a sad sight indeed," she said sarcastically.

"You." Sam faced Rowena with tears brimming in his eyes. "You have to heal him. I know you can."

"And what makes you think I would want to help a Winchester. Especially that one." She pointed at Dean.

"'Cause if you don't," he pulled out his gun and cocked it. "You won't see the day you get your hands on the Codex. Now, heal him. NOW!"

Raising her hands in surrender, Rowena stepped forward and knelt next to Sam. She placed a hand on Dean's hand.

"I don't want him to remember any of this," said Sam.

"What?"

"I don't want him to remember what he must have saw and what he did. None of it."

Rowena rolled her eyes. "He's your brother, not mine. Vos vere circumspexisset huc usque."

The wounds on Dean's arm began to heal, the flesh stitching itself back together, the glass embedded in the cuts fell into his lap. The blood stains on his clothes and on the carpet faded until there was nothing left. It was like it never happened at all. Rowena disappeared into thin air.

Dean stirred. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times. "Sammy," he whispered hoarsely.

"Hey, Dean, how you feeling?"

"Like crap. What the hell happened." He rubbed the back of his head.

"The spell. Right before I opened the box, I guess it gave one last push. It must have knocked you unconscious. You remember anything?"

Eyes squinted in thought, Dean shook his head. "No, not really."

Sam smiled and reached into his pocket and pulled out the Codex.

"I'll be damned." Dean chuckled.

"Come on, let's get you home. You look like crap." Sam stood and helped pull Dean to his feet.

Sam pulled one arm around Dean to keep his steady. They walked towards the front door, Dean beaming at finally getting a good break, Sam falling deeper into that pit inside himself. He knew Dean was in a bad place.

Now he knew just how bad it was.

 _Struggling to stand, with your head in your hands…_

 _A stoic last stand of a dying man_

 _I did not understand..._

 _I did not understand._


	5. The Time Cas Tries It

**The Time Cas Tries It**

 _And in a burst of light that blinded every angel..._

"It should be you up there, not her… It should be you up there, not her… It should be you… Should be you… You… You… You got her killed."

Dean's voice rang in his mind over and over and over again. What Dean had said at Charlie's funeral had its claws in Sam's mind and it didn't look like it would ever let go. He knew he should be worrying about how Dean went psycho-killer on the Steins, but what Dean had said to him was the only thing on his mind.

Well, not the only thing.

That familiar itch returned. His fingertips begged for something to hold, something cold. They longed for the warmth that came with it. He could almost feel the high of unconsciousness, that euphoria on the edge of nothing. That little voice in the back of his head began to whisper to him the most horrible things, and his eyes wandered around the room, looking for anything to satisfy the bodiless voice in his head.

Sam remembered Ruby's knife under his pillow but decided against it. Dean would need to use it and he knew Dean would never touch it again if he knew his brother's blood stained it. All he had left in his room were guns but he didn't want that either. It was too quick, too painless for him. He needed to suffer and it would cause a much bigger mess that Dean would have to clean. He already had made a big enough mess.

He figured his best bet was to go to the kitchen and take a knife from the drawer. The only problem was that in order to get to the kitchen, Sam would have to go through the library and Cas was in there.

When Sam had returned to the Bunker a few days after Charlie's funeral, he had found Cas lying on the floor, beaten and bloody, next to an angel blade sticking out of a book. Sam helped Cas up and tended to his wounds, but then hid away to his room. Cas stared up at Sam the whole time. His blue eyes clearly understood something was wrong, something dark within Sam, but then again, Cas had bigger things to worry about like his broken ribs and the fact that he had nearly met his demise by one of the few he considered family anymore.

Sam collected himself, opened his door, and walked down the hall, hoping that maybe Cas was in the bathroom getting cleaned up and not sitting at the library tables. As he walked, he noticed light shining underneath a door. The door belonged to the spare bedroom that they let Cas sleep in on the few occasions that he came and slept. Sam figured that Cas must be resting so he walked passed to the door only to stop when he heard a muffled sob come from behind it. He turned back and knocked gently.

"Cas?"

Something in the room rustled and the sobs stopped. Sam heard quiet footsteps and the lock clicked. The door opened and a wet face peaked out.

"Sam," cried Cas. Sam had never seem Cas cry before, not even close to tears. His already puffy eyes were even puffier. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were red. He wasn't wearing his trench coat or suit, just the pair of gray sweatpants and an old t-shirt of Dean's that Sam gave to him for the time being. His black hair was a tangled mess. Cas sniffled as he took a few steps back, gesturing to Sam to come in.

"Cas, what's wrong," asked Sam as he stepped into the room.

"I- I- don't-" Cas stuttered his words as his hands shook in front of him. He backed up to the bed and sat down with a creak of the mattress. "I'm scared, Sam."

"Scared of what?" Sam sat on the bed next to him.

"Dean."

Sam looked down at his hands. "Me too."

"Something is wrong, Sam, isn't there?"

Sam laughed coldly. "I should ask you the same thing?"

"I'm scared of how close I came to dying. I mean, I've come close before on multiple occasions, but with Dean. That was something else."

"What do you mean?"

"There was something very dark in his eyes, Sam. Even darker that when he was a demon. It was Dean… too much Dean."

They sat in silence for a long time. Sam let the words seep into him and he understood Cas completely. Dean was cold and heartless as a demon, but he had been that when he was human sometimes. That made him scarier.

"You okay, Cas."

Cas laughed coldly just as Sam did. "No."

"What? Cas, you can tell me what's wrong. I know that look; I've seen in the mirror. You've done the same for me." _But all that is about to go to waste soon. I just want to do one last good thing right._

Cas turned his head and stared at the nightstand. On it sat a bottle of pills and a glass of water.

"Cas, what are those?"

Fresh tears began to fall from Cas's eyes. He covered his face and turned his back to Sam. Sam laid a hand on Cas's shoulder as it shook. "Sam, I killed- Charlie. I let her- out of my sight. It was my job... to look after her."

"I'm the only one that screwed this all up. Not you, not Dean. I got Charlie killed. Not you. You didn't talk her into it. I did. If I hadn't been such a dumbass, none of this would have ever happened. I'm sorry."

"There's no need for you to apologize. I'm just as guilty as you."

"Like hell you are," shouted Sam. "I. Did. This. And don't you ever think about taking those pills. Ever. You are a much better person than them. You don't deserve to die. You have to be strong. You have to keep fighting. Always."

A silence fell over them for a moment before Sam spoke again. "You're like my brother, Cas. Hell, you are my brother. I can't lose you. Not after all this crap we've been through."

Cas smiled up at Sam through tears. "Thank you, Sam."

Sam smiled back and squeezed Cas's shoulder before he stood. "You okay, now?"

"Yeah," Cas sniffled. "I think so. Thank you. Really."

Sam grinned awkwardly. "That's what family does." He walked over to the nightstand and took the bottle of pills in his hand. The name on the label was scratched out but Sam recognized the name of the medication to be a type of high-dose sleeping pill. Cas was serious about it. He stuffed them into his pocket as he walked back towards Cas. He did a once-over on Cas's wounds that he could see and asked if his ribs still hurt.

"Yes, but not as bad as before."

"Well, if you need anything, let me know, okay?"

"Okay."

"Get some rest, Cas."

Cas nodded and looked down at his feet. "Thank you, Sam." He looked back up at Sam, worry and thankfulness in his blue eyes. "For everything."

Sam knew Cas knew something was wrong. He knew Cas couldn't quite put a finger on it but he knew it was bad. Cas sat there and studied Sam intently. Something sad sat behind his eyes but he knew Sam would never tell. He knew the look was familiar, too familiar, and one that he hoped to never see on Sam's face… but he thought Sam had stopped it long ago.

Sam avoided Cas's stares and went towards the door. "Goodnight, Cas." He stopped in the doorway and turned with one hand resting on the frame. "And thank you." He smiled shyly and walked back down the hall towards his room. Cas sat on the bed staring at the empty hall, wondering what Sam could have meant. He was scared, he didn't know what to do anymore. He was on the verge of losing one brother, he was not willing to lose another. He almost lost himself. He would be gone if it weren't for Sam.

 _No, no one else. Not anymore_. Cas sighed softly and gripped tightly to the thigh of his sweatpants, his head bowing.

It was the first time he had prayed to his Father in a long time.

 _As if the sky had blown the heavens into stars_


	6. My Time of Dying

**My Time of Dying**

 **** ** **Hey guys, sorry it took so long to upload. The holidays have been very busy with gift buying/making and final exams, but I am done! Hallelujah! Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry it's a little on the short side, I'm trying to stretch it out over two chapters. I think I might write one more chapter after this to finish it up**** ** **BUT**** ** **if you have any ideas to carry it a little further (like an epilogue or bonus chapter) comment or message me. I would love to hear y'all's ideas! I will cite you for your idea if I chose your idea. As always, Always Keep Fighting and hope y'all have a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and the best Holidays!****

 _Remember all the sadness and frustration…_

Sam wandered down the empty hallways. He ran his hand across the wall as he went, feeling every bump and crack along its surface. The bottle of pills weighed a ton in his pocket. Occasionally, with his other hand, he would feel the ridges of the cap or the peeling paper of the label. It was comforting somehow.

He slouched his shoulders and let his head hang down as he walked. He felt like he was made of cement, everything was pulling him down. It was like gravity had increased itself, but he knew it hadn't. All that weight was on him alone. There was no way to get rid of it… _without putting a bullet in your head_ , thought Sam.

He found he had walked aimlessly into the kitchen, his original destination, but he figured a knife would be too messy. Even though he wanted to feel pain as he slipped away, he didn't want to cause anymore trouble when it came to cleaning up afterwards. A cold body full of pills was a lot easier to deal with a cold body in a pool of blood. _Maybe this should be the one thing that isn't painful in my life. I'm tired of pain._

He fiddled with the pills in his pocket as he walked back to his room after he grabbed a bottle water out of the fridge. When he got back into his sanctuary, he closed the door quietly and leaned back against the cool wood, blowing air out through of his nose. He knocked his head back against the door as he thought. A tear slid down his face.

 _Not today. Not after what happened to Cas. He needs a few days before he finds me…_

 **A few days later**

Cas sat quietly at the table in the library. He sipped his coffee as he read about an ancient South American people he already knew about. He shook his head at all the facts the book was getting wrong. He hadn't seen Sam in a few hours. Sam would only come out of his room to use the bathroom or to get something small to eat like an apple or a sandwich. He was spending more time in his room alone than Cas liked. Cas could see something was wrong, really wrong, like him-and-Sam-sitting-on-the-church-bathroom-floor wrong. Cas decided to heat up some soup to take to Sam, anything to give him an real excuse to go into his room to see if he was alright.

He carried the warm bowl down the hall towards Sam's room. The hall was mostly dark besides what little light was cast down from the library. The Winchesters decided a while ago, in order to save electricity, to keep the hall lights off when they weren't in use. Since Sam rarely came out of his room anymore, this hall was rarely lit. It frightened Cas he walked down its length toward Sam's door.

He knocked gently with his free hand and called to Sam. Silence was the only reply. "Sam?" called Cas again. "May I come in? I have some soup. You haven't eaten something substantial in a while." Again, no response. "Sam, please open up." Quiet.

Cas laid the soup down on the ground by the wall and knocked again, more loudly this time. When Sam didn't answer, he tried to door knob. It was unlocked and swung open with ease. The room was spotless. No dirty clothes littered the floor, the desk was organized and free of clutter, and the bed was made. The only thing out of place was an empty bottle of pills on the floor by the bed, a half-full glass of water on the nightstand, and Sam lying lifelessly on the bed with drool seeping into the blanket. His eyes were blank and unseeing, his skin was pale, and his chest didn't rise with breath.

"Sam!"

 **Meanwhile…**

The empty restaurant was quiet except for the breeze against the windows. The smell of cheap Mexican food filled the air. It almost made him feel sick to his stomach to smell that amount of grease. Dean continued with the spell, collecting the ingredients on the table. He turned to double check he had all the food ready before he began to place everything into the metal bowl in front of him. Before he pulled a match out of the box, his cell phone rang. He almost ignored it, but he pulled it out of his pocket anyway in habit. The screen displayed "Cas." He hit answer with hesitation. "What is it, Cas?"

"Dean," said Cas on the other end with panic in his voice, almost breathless. "It's Sam; he- he- he took a bunch of pills, and now he's not breathing. I called 911."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Dean.

Cas paused for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was smooth, deep, effortless, no tinge of fear in it. "Because he's your brother. You need to get here now. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you need to be here."

Dean snorted. "Bye, Cas."

"Dean, wait, Sa-" click. Dean threw the phone back in his pocket. but once it was there, it felt like it weighed a ton. He tried to continue putting the spell together, but something kept nagging at him. The name Sam seemed foreign to him. It didn't roll off his tongue, it didn't sound clear when he spoke it in his head. The name had no meaning behind it anymore, but something made him linger on it. The name was pulling him back from something he wanted so desperately. _Sam. Pills. Not breathing_. all in the same sentence. It kept nagging at him, scratching away inside of his mind. Reality had taken root in his head.

He put the box of matches on the table and grabbed his jacket as he walked out the door, keys in hand. The spell was going to have to wait.

 **Sorry for it being a little short, but I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know! Don't forget to tell me your ideas on an epilogue or bonus chapter. Have a great holiday season! Bye, guys and AlwaysKeepFighting! PS I do have a SPN Christmas fanfic with eggnog, cheap decorations, funny gifts, tacky sweaters, happiness all around, and Dean singing if you need some therapy for this fanfiction (Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas). Check it out on my main page.**


	7. Hopeless but Hoping

**Hopeless but Hoping**

 **Sorry it took so long but, guys, we've made it. The final chapter, but it doesn't have to be! In the words of Chuck, nothing ever really ends. If you have any ideas, let me know via comment or message. I want to hear y'alls ideas for an epilogue or bonus chapter. I was thinking something to do with Sam seeing Lucifer again in Season 11, and Lucifer maybe put some bad thoughts in his head, but he overcomes it. Idk, just throwing stuff out there. Thank y'all so much for all the positive feedback and thanks for this journey. You, the readers, are the reason I write. Bye, guys!**

The machines beeped so constantly, it nearly drove him mad. Muffled footsteps passed by over and over again on the other side of the heavy door. The stale hospital smell filled his nose, he wanted to smell anything besides the total cleanliness and stench of bleach. The room was bland and white, nothing he could keep his eyes on very long before they wandered to another corner. Cas sat in the most uncomfortable chair he had ever sat in. He shifted his weight time and time again, trying to make sure his back end didn't fall asleep on the hard upholstery. He kept his hands folded in his lap as he watched over Sam lying in the bed. Tubes came out of his mouth, IVs littered his arms, and his skin was pale and translucent. He was so lifeless. His chest barely rose and fell, and his skin was ice cold to the touch. Even his eyes refused to move behind his lids. It broke Cas's heart to see Sam like this. On more than one occasion, he had to turn his gaze away.

Cas massaged his palms and took a hand to rub his lower back. He had a hard time moving Sam. When Dean hung up on him, he ran back to Sam and pulled him up into a seated position. From there, Cas barely had enough strength to throw him over one of his shoulders. His legs bowed and shook under all the weight as he shuffled to the library and up the stairs. By the time he got outside, he was almost out of breath and heaved as he carried Sam. He laid Sam down next to his old "pimp" car, unlocked the door, and lifted him into the backseat. Cas drove Sam to the hospital as fast as he could. Now his back ached and his arms and legs felt weak from the use.

His heart felt heavy in his chest like a weight pushing on his ribcage. He felt his blood pump quickly through his veins, and they pumped with so much force it almost hurt. Without knowing it, his leg shook up and down as his nerves got the best of him. His palms were clammy, and his hair clung to his forehead in the slight fever he carried. He felt alive for the first time in a while, but when he looked at Sam, his heart fell further into his chest. Sam wasn't alive, not really. He was alive because machines kept him breathing and tubes pumped medicine to keep his heart beating. Cas knew Sam hadn't felt alive like him, really alive in quite a while. Something was broken in him. He hadn't been alive in a long time. He was a walking dead man, only now his body was finally catching up.

Cas rubbed his palms some more until he heard a voice in the hall. It was deep and raspy. It sounded scared, rushed, panicked, and it asked something he couldn't understand. The muffled voice of a female nurse answered, but Cas couldn't hear, so he looked back at the window, watching the branches of the tree outside sway in the breeze. The door creaked open and a nurse stuck her head inside. Cas turned towards her. "Mr. Winchester?" she asked.

Cas lied to the hospital staff. He called himself "Cas Winchester" in order for them to let him stay with Sam. He claimed to be his brother, and it wasn't far from the truth. He just needed to fudge a name to make it look like they were blood related. "Yes," answered Cas in a raspy voice that hadn't talked in awhile.

"You and Sam have a visitor. He says I should ask you if he can come in. It's your brother, Dean."

Cas's eyes widened in wonder. He almost didn't know what to do, and he stumbled over his words. "He can come in. Thank you, ma'am."

The nurse smiled. "You're welcome." She stepped out of the room and Cas heard her say, "You can go on in, Mr. Winchester."

Dean walked into the room, his hair a mess and his clothes wrinkled. His eyes were wild, searching, scared. His movements were quick and sudden, but it looked like he was in the beginning of puberty, unable to control the new length of his limbs, legs and arms moving without input from his brain. When his eyes met Cas's, his face fell from scared to absolute sadness. "Cas." His voice was weak.

"Hello, Dean," said Cas quietly.

Dean's gaze fell onto Sam. A low sound came from his mouth. It wasn't a moan or a cry, somewhere in the middle. He shuffled to the bedside, unsure if he should grab his brother's hand. His eyes ran up and down Sam's lifeless body. "What happened, Cas?" His voice broke mid sentence. "What happened to my brother?" He looked at Cas with his eyes red with oncoming tears.

"He…" Cas could barely get his mouth and tongue to work. "He took... a whole bottle of… pills.

A tear fell from Dean's eye as he turned back to Sam. "Why would you do that you stupid son of a bitch? Huh? What the hell were you thinking?"

Cas let out a small cry as he broke down. He covered mouth and hid his eyes as he stood and ran to the door. Dean watched as he ran, but he needed to be with Sam. Cas flung open the door and dashed down the hall. A man in a white coat appeared in the doorway and looked confused, his brows pulled into a scowl. "Is he okay?"

Dean turned back to Sam. "I don't know."

The man, a doctor obviously, entered the room and closed the door with a click. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Winchester, correct?" Dean nodded without facing him. "I'm Dr. Peters."

"Is my brother going to be okay?" interrupted Dean.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, your brother took nearly a whole bottle of a high dosage sleeping pills. He's lucky to be in this room right now. Your other brother saved his life."

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Dean again with more force.

"Well, we just don't know bad of a shape he's in until he wakes up. He suffered a massive trauma to his organs. His liver almost failed, and his kidneys are in bad condition. But we won't know the damage to his brain until he wakes up."

Dean turned to Dr. Peters. "But he will wake up?"

"Yes, we believe so. He is showing good brain activity." He motioned to a little monitor beside the bed. A little line jumped up and down. Beside that monitor was one that Dean recognized. A little heart symbol was in the corner, but its line moved slowly and the spikes weren't very high. "He's still here, just in a very deep sleep. He should wake up soon, within the hour, I hope."

A silence fell between them. Dr. Peters watched Dean watch Sam. Dr. Peter's eyes fell to the floor in respect. "I think I should leave you two alone for now. If you need anything, just call." He turned and left, leaving Dean staring blankly at Sam. Dean walked to the chair Cas was in and sat. He looked up and down Sam's still body.

"Sammy, please just wake up. Please," cried Dean quietly. He wove his fingers together in front of him, almost in prayer. "Wake up."

 **Meanwhile…**

Stumbling through the halls, Cas kept his head down, staring at the white tiled floor as he went. His eyes were red, and his throat ached from holding back screams. He kept his fists clenched and avoided any onlookers. He just kept walking, swiftly gliding between groups of doctors and nurses. A couple of nurses asked him if he was okay as he passed, but he didn't even slow down; their words were merely a ring in his ear. All he could see was red, all he could hear was a low ring in time with his heart. It felt like the halls were never ending, corner after corner, all the halls became to look the same. Finally when he thought he could walk no more, Cas spotted an elevator. He dashed over to it and pushed the down button forcefully. He waited with his head hung low to keep anyone from seeing his wet face. When the door opened, he stepped inside and pushed the button for the lobby. The door closed when no one else got on, and Cas fell back against the back wall, almost falling to the floor. He broke down. He cried more than he thought he ever could. Instead of holding back the screams, he sobbed loudly; he knew no one could hear.

He looked up to see he was two floors from the lobby and began to wipe the tears from his hot cheeks. He stood tall and straightened his tie and coat before the door opened. He kept his head down as he walked through the lobby and out the front door. Cas kept going out into the parking lot, going towards the small park and walking trail the hospital had on its grounds. The small playground was empty, and no one walked the trails. Birds chirped happily, blissfully unaware of the pain within the building they flew around. He thought in the back of his mind, _This could be a good thing. No one was having to pace out here, waiting for bad news. Like me…_

He came to a bench and sat heavily on it. He rested his elbows on his legs and took his hands in front of him. _Why, why, why, why was I so stupid, so selfish, so blind_ , he prayed. "It was MY job!" he screamed to the sky. "And why can't I do it! I was supposed to look after him and I…" He bowed his head for a moment and then lifted it back up to the sky. "Why won't you help him. Not me, him. He didn't deserve that. He deserves to live. Don't do this to Dean. Don't do this to them. Please."

His phone vibrated in his trench coat's pocket. He wiped his eyes and took his phone out. A message from Dean. "Where are you, Cas? I need you now, please."

Cas cleared his throat and brushed again at his face. He raked his fingers through his hair as he stood to go back in. He stood still for a while and walked slowly back to the front door so that by the time he got back to the main desk, it didn't look like he had been crying.

He came up to the front desk, and the lady sitting behind it watched him with curious eyes.

"Can you tell me how to get back to Room 283?"

 **Sam's Room**

With phone resting in his hands, Dean sat quietly, staring blankly out the window. He tossed the phone back in forth between his palms, waiting for any response from Cas. He wondered if he should text back or call. He needed someone to talk to, someone who wasn't in a self-induced coma. He clicked the lock button to check the time but mostly to see if there were any new messages. He was about to hit "call" when there was a quick knock on the door.

"Come in," called Dean, his voice quiet and husky.

Cas peaked his head in first, followed by the rest of him. He moved cautiously as he came up to Dean.

"Hey, Cas." Cas kept his eyes to the floor. "What's wrong? Cas?" Cas shook his head. "Come on, man. What's wrong. Please, just tell me."

Cas looked up with bloodshot eyes. "I- it's my fault Sam's… here."

Dean's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I had the pills, and- and he… took them from me."

"Why did _you_ have the pills?"

A tear fell from Cas's face. He could barely get the words out. "The same reason Sam took them." Cas let the tears come again while Dean stared at him with shock.

"Cas." Dean stood up and turned his body to Cas. He took him in his arms, wrapping them tightly around Cas's shoulders. He put his chin against his neck and held him there for a while. Cas let go. He fell into Dean and pushed his face into the crook of Dean's neck. His breath was hot against Dean's skin. Cas clutched to Dean's jacket and Dean did the same to Cas's shirt.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry," he sobbed.

Dean pulled Cas closer, letting him weep into his neck. After a few minutes, Cas's sobs stopped and his grip loosened on Dean's jacket. Cas pulled away first and took a step back, his face red and wet again. Dean motioned for him to take the chair, and Cas obeyed. Dean leaned against the foot of the bed.

"Cas, what happened?"

"I don't know. I didn't know what to do anymore. I- I was so lost. I couldn't do it anymore." Another tear fell down his face.

"Hey, hey, listen to me. None of this is your fault. None of it. And what you tired to do, I don't want to ever hear you say you want to again, you hear me? Not you. I can't lose you too. You do not deserve to die, no matter what you think, what anyone else thinks." With eyes wide, Dean clenched his jaw, angry and scared for Cas.

Another tear fell from Cas's eyes. "Thank you."

" _Dean_."

Dean and Cas snapped their attention to the bed. Sam's eyes were barely opened but he was awake. Dean rushed to the side of the bed, and Cas stood.

"Sammy?"

"Hey, Dean." Sam's voice was quiet, barely audible. His mouth tugged at one corner, a small smile.

"Heya, Sammy. You okay?" asked Dean, his hand resting on Sam's.

Sam snorted quietly. "Define 'okay'."

Dean smiled brightly. He looked at Sam like he was a new puppy that he brought home. Cas wiped what tears remained on his face. The motion caught Sam's gaze and he turned it towards Cas. "Hey, Cas."

Cas smiled grimly. "Hello, Sam."

"Thank you, Cas. Really."

"What for?"

Sam paused for a moment to look at Dean. "This. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here."

Cas's smile fell. He shook his head. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't _have_ to be here."

Sam shook his head. "No, I would have found another way, Cas. Don't blame this on yourself. It's my fault, and only my fault."

"Sam," said Dean harshly. His smile was gone, and he wore a face of betrayal and shame. "Why?"

Sam asked, "Why what?"

"Why did you try to commit _suicide_ , Sam?"

"Oh, that."

"Don't play games with me. _Why_?"

"It's hard to explain, Dean. I don't know why. A lot of reasons, I suppose."

"What kind of reasons? Please, man, don't beat around the damn bush. Sammy, please." Sam was quiet for a while. "Sam! Why?!"

"Alright! Alright… I'm tired, Dean. So damn tired. Look at all the shit that I've done because I thought I was doing the right thing. You were gone, I was here, so I didn't want to be here anymore. I… Didn't know where to turn." A tear rolled down his cheek. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Keep going! That's what you were supposed to do!"

"I'm TIRED of 'keep going'! Dammit, don't you get it? There are so many miles on me, and I wanted to just go… So many times, Dean. So many times I got so close to getting what I wanted. Now, I know I shouldn't get what I want."

"What do you mean, 'get what you want'?"

"Dying, Dean. I wanted to die on so many occasions. I was so close. But I kept going. All I've ever done for years now is 'keep going'."

"What? You mean you've done this before?" Dean's voice began to lose its harsh edge.

"Yeah. Not with pills, but yeah. I've tried." Sam took his hand, which felt like a wrecking ball hanging off the end of his weak arm, and lifted up his shirt, exposing his stomach. Pink scars covered all of his stomach in what could be called intricate designs. He took his arm and turned the inside of his arm up to show the scars of when he dug his nails into his flesh.

Shook covered Dean's face. He stared at the marks, unable to comprehend what his little brother had done to himself. He couldn't wrap his mind around all the scars that covered the skin that he once thought was clean of self harm and hate. "Sammy…"

A knot formed in Cas's throat. He choked on his tongue as a firm hand of guilt wrapped itself around his throat. His eyes burned with promise of fresh tears again. He tried not to make a sound, but a small squeak escaped his lips. Dean turned at the sound to see Cas holding back tears with a quivering bottom lip. "Did you know about this?" asked Dean. Cas nodded. "How long?"

Cas struggled to find the words. "Since the beginning, but I didn't know about that." He pointed at Sam's scarred stomach.

"He did this before? More than _this_? When?"

"I don't know. About five, six years ago," answered Cas.

"When Bobby told me to lose his number. Remember?" Sam added. "I went into a church and… cut myself. In the bathroom… and Cas came to me and pulled me back."

Dean looked back and forth between the two of them. He couldn't comprehend that both of them had managed to hide such a big secret for so long. "Both of you? How?" Both Sam and Cas looked down in shame. Sam didn't want _this._ Not the shame, not the heavy guilt weighing down his chest, not the burning stare of his concerned brother. "I mean, how could you not tell me? Both of you! Why didn't you tell me? Did you think I wouldn't understand, is that it?"

Clearing his hoarse throat, Sam said, "Maybe you wouldn't at the time, Dean."

"Alright, maybe I wouldn't then, but come on. I'm your brother. You have to trust me enough to tell me things like this. Did you think I would disown you or something? Think I thought I would be disappointed?" Sam nodded slightly, realizing that it was the truth. He didn't want Dean to be disappointed in him for giving up so easily and going out in a way he thought cowardly. "And Cas, don't you ever keep a secret like that again from me. I can't lose both of you. Not again. You gotta trust me, guys. We're family. And I understand. More than you could imagine."

Cas looked up at Dean's comment. "What do you mean?"

Dean laughed to himself. "I, uh. A while ago, I thought about ending it all myself." He chuckled quietly. "But I knew it wouldn't work. Not with this thing on my arm." He motioned to his forearm.

"Dean," called Sam. "I have something to tell you. About that."

"What?"

"What you don't know is that when we went and retrieved the Codex, you weren't unconscious because of the spell. I don't know what happened, but you cut your arms with a broken bottle. Rowena fixed you up and wiped your memory. I asked her to."

Dean looked to the floor for a while, watching the specks of sunlight dance on the linoleum tiles as the tree outside swayed in the breeze, taking it all in. _It made sense,_ thought Dean. "Why? Why did you have her erase my memory?"

"I don't know. It made sense at the time. I just didn't know what to do. I couldn't have you thinking like that, not with all the crap happening then."

The memory of it became to trickle into his mind again. He faintly remembered seeing the washed-out face of Benny wearing a smile upon his face. It wasn't a happy-to-see-ya-again-Dean smile. It was a I'm-sorry-but-it-has-to-be-this-way smile. He remembered thinking it would be so much easier to give it all away just to be where he wanted to be: purgatory, where he could do no harm. An itch returned to him as he recalled that feeling of euphoria as he smashed the empty bottle and took its edges to his skin. "I understand," replied Dean. "And I'm sorry."

"For what?" asked Sam.

"For a lot of things. What I said, for what I did to you, both of you. I'm sorry I was so stupid for not seeing you two were hurting."

Sam smiled warmly. "It's okay, Dean. I'm sorry for all of this."

Cas cleared his throat before he added, "Me too."

Dean went over to Sam and held his arms wide open. Sam leaned forward and leaned into Dean's embrace, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders. With his arms tight around his brother, Dean smiled for the first time in a long time. "I love you, Sammy."

Sam laughed to himself at the affection. "I love you too, Dean. Thank you." They held onto each other like they were each other's tether to the earth. After a while, they parted and Dean stood.

Dean turned his attention to Cas and held his arms out. Cas smiled and pulled Dean towards him. "Thank you for saving my brother," said Dean in Cas's ear. He clapped his hands on Cas's back.

"Thank you both for being my brothers," answered Cas. He felt Dean's mouth smile against his neck. They pulled apart, Dean keeping one hand resting on Cas's shoulder. Sam teared up at the idea of being happy again. It felt like a massive weight that had pulled on his chest was finally gone. He smiled brightly, really smiled. Dean laughed at seeing Sam close to tears. He almost teared up himself. Cas reached over and placed his hand in Sam's. Cas marveled at his two brothers finally happy. He was happy to be with them, to be here.

They were all happy to be…

 _here._

 _Remember all the sadness and frustration and let it go._


End file.
